Cheap
by Pterobat
Summary: The birth and early life of anime-Envy.
1. Chapter 1

**Cheap**

**Chapter 1**

He stretched his neck forward, wheezing through jaws that could not close. The larger of the two watching shapes drew back, before straightening itself. Father, that was Father, while Mother wasn't crouched down close, but she was watching.

Father reached into his clothing and then stretched out his hand, opening the fingers slowly. On the trembling palm were small stones coloured like sunset. Legless, the creation slumped forward to take the stones, teeth slashing Father's palm, and ate, and ate.

Then he slept, and when he awoke, there was no more smoky darkness, instead sunlight came through a window he'd never seen. He drew in a breath, finding that the air now reached his chest with ease. There was still that hunger, but it was...something he could deal with at the moment.

And there was something else, something that he just couldn't remember, but was inches away from doing so. It was very important, but he. Just. Couldn't.

He lifted his arm before him. The skin was a shredded mess, flaking away as he raised it. He screamed, but the arm was intact. Just a hallucination, but his skin really was icy white, a black fingerless glove covering the hand.

He touched his chest, finding a black garment that slid tightly over his skin, but was somehow comfortable. But for a round opening patch on his left thigh, revealing a red dragon tattoo, it covered everything below the neck except his arms; the shoes even seemed to be part of the pant legs. The glove-parts were on both hands.

Sitting up, he ran his tongue around in his mouth, thinking of what to do. It ran across something, and suddenly blood filled his mouth. It dribbled down his lip, staining his fingers as he tried to wipe it away. He felt his teeth more carefully, and understood that they were fangs.

His eyes widened. Who was he? Why did he look like this? He shouldn't, somehow he was completely sure of that. Where was a mirror?

He stood with a creak of the bedframe and then turned in a slow circle, examining the room. It was part of a plain wooden cottage, somewhere that he'd never been before, empty except for the bed.

Breathing hard, he ran towards the door. The knob rattled when he pulled, then the panelling shook as he pounded with his fist. "Who's out there? Mother! Father!"

The door wouldn't yield, even when he pushed. There had to be something against it, several things. Someone wanted to keep him in there; it must have to do with what he couldn't remember.

The world outside the window didn't give any answers. A deep forest was pressing close to the cottage, with no sign of any other buildings. The moon and stars that eventually appeared did nothing to improve the view.

Whatever his weird clothing was, the bloodstains soon disappeared on their own, though they remained on his bare skin. When he touched it, his face felt otherwise normal, though his hair, when he took a strand before his eyes, was black with a greenish tinge. He should have been blonde. And what had he been wearing before he died?

This time he only gasped, the small sound loud in the room's silence. He folded slowly to the floor, resting his back against a bedpost. There were still pieces missing, but this was what he'd been searching for. He had died, and was alive again.

These white hands...was he a walking corpse, then? The undead? With the sharp teeth, probably a vampire.

Thunder outside the door distracted him. He tensed, before realizing it was the sound of furniture and whatever else was blocking the door being shoved away. Rising slowly, he went to meet whatever was there.

Flinging open the door, he shouted, "Who are you?! I know that I've died, and I didn't look like this! Tell me what--!"

There was no confusion about the figures that sat at the table.

Mother looked at Father, who was staring, mouth hanging a bit open. Then she looked back at him. Being under her gaze was uncomfortable; he felt like a specimen in a jar.

Mother's expression softened. "You are alive. Please don't be sad; you can change your form to resemble your true body. It's an ability that all homunculi have."

Not a vampire, then. "I..."

Father looked between them. "Let's sit down, please. It's been a long day."

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The homunculus stared at his wine. He'd drank it, but that caused a sensation in his stomach that reminded him of water being poured on stone. Before he had sat down, a tremor had caressed his body, and he had indeed changed back to his full likeness: blonde hair, colour to his cheeks, a black vest over a white jacket, black pants and brown shoes (separate); even his teeth had returned to normal. With a few tries, he was able to control it, and was also allowed to see the stage he'd been in before, what he thought of as the "vampire" mode. Despite its strangeness, this form had been basically the mirror image of his true self, just different in the colouring and clothing, the teeth, and those purple cat's eyes that he'd seen in the mirror he'd been given when asked. His face was always the same, smooth and handsome with a hawk nose.

Mother had done most of the talking. She was gentle, but the homunculus still knew that he was being studied. Father was there, but also seemed not to be. His mouth was tightly set, and he barely drank anything.

Between them on the table was the book.

"You see that I had to be honest with you," Mother said. "But this is the only tome on the subject that I've found, and possibly it's the only one in the world. Parts are also missing, which makes it even more difficult."

The homunculus raised his head and grinned. "It doesn't matter. I'm going to be starting a new life."

"You're taking this very...well," Father said.

He leaned forward. "You made such a sacrifice for me, and I want to make sure that I make the most of the new life that I've been given. And I also want you to know that it's okay you never told me about who you really were."

Father: "It is?"

"Well, before I would have been devastated to know that my parents were witches. But now that I've got proof of how much power there is in it, now that I'm part of it, I don't have any objections."

"It will be difficult," Mother added. "We've already had to move several times to take the ingredients needed to bring you to life without bringing suspicion on ourselves. Eventually your father and I will have to switch bodies again, too."

"That doesn't matter. Whatever is done to the body, it's the soul that's the most important thing. If your soul exists, no matter what vessel it's in, then you're you."

Father frowned. "But you will always look the same. Your black and white body isn't going to satisfy as a new identity forever."

The homunculus smiled. "I'll think of something."

---------------------------------------------------

With his mind was clear of anxiety, he thick forest was now beautiful as a painting. But it was just as silent.

"I don't hear any birds. Not even the insects are around." His hearing had sharpened since his rebirth.

"They're dead," Father answered.

"Dead." It was just a statement.

Neither of them stopped walking. After a while, Father said, "The vapour from making the red stones has killed most of the local wildlife. I didn't think it would have gone down to the insects, though."

"I see. So when do we move?" This area was isolated, he was feeling good, but that was no reason to ignore that other people would soon notice.

Father sighed, then looked down at the path. "Very soon. Have you thought about what your new career will be?"

The homunculus laughed. "Right now I just want to discover the special ability that Mother mentioned."

"You haven't looked at the book yourself?"

"She keeps it close to her. It doesn't seem like I could learn anything more from actually reading it, anyway." The homunculus tiled his head back. Everything was going so well, no need to muddy it up with minor details.

The bear crunched its way into view. Swaying on its paws, it reared and sniffed, as the two men stopped. A thick white mass ran from its jaws, spraying back as it dropped to its paws and thudded forward at an angle, grunting loudly.

The homunculus darted in between his father and the bear. He was planless, but with a spark the fingers of his right hand twisted together, merging with part of his upper arm to form a scythe-like blade.

This happened in the space of a second, and the maddened bear paused, frozen by the strange light of the transformation. The homunculus crouched and leapt, swinging his arm as he returned to earth. Blood spurted, then gushed, as the bear's upper body was split into perfect cross-section. The animal crushed its legs underneath itself as it fell.

Raising his wet red arm, the homunculus willed it to become his hand and sleeve again, and watched it happen with quick success. He barked out a nervous, incredulous laugh, before stumbling once and then went to his father. At some point the older man had fallen back, was now propped up by his hands. Staring again.

Changing his hand again, the homunculus chose a blade that resembled the end of a pike. "This must be it! Wow. Oh, wow. Look at it! I can protect you! They'll never expect it!" He repeated the change with his left, then offered this clean hand to his father.

---------------------------------------------------

Mother's eyes followed the curve of the blade. This time it resembled a sickle, and its owner watched blade and mother equally closely, the candlelight flickering on both.

She raised a finger and ran it over the blade's surface. "It does feel like real metal, too. Incredible," she breathed.

"Isn't it?" The homunculus changed his hand back. "And it feels great! I swear, sometimes I think it's a surprise that most people aren't killing themselves just to come back like this."

Mother blinked, but seemed to recover quickly. "What else do you think you can do?"

"Huh?"

"Do you remember the stories I used to tell you?"

"...No. I'm sorry." Not everything was clear inside his head yet. Maybe it would never be, but better to live in the moment.

"They included shapeshifters, beings who could become animals, other people, material objects, with just a spell. Why should you be limited to blades?"

He looked over to Father, who stood in one corner of the room. There had been no conscious choice in making the first blade, but now he could control that. It should be easy to find the next level of metamorphosis, if there was one.

He tried to think of something simple, and closed his eyes. The feel of change was a wonderful spasm, and when he opened his eyes, his hands were completely new, too slender, a woman's. He chuckled again like he couldn't believe it, almost a giggle this time.

Mother left, coming back with a hand mirror. She turned it to him, holding it lengthwise for the best view. It only confirmed what he already knew.

He had turned into Mother.

"My voice?" It was hers, too.

He changed back with another pleasing shiver, becoming the vampire again and then back to his golden form. There was a coldness in the sensation, too, at the thought of changing his gender, but really, it hadn't felt too different, not bad.

To his mind he called the people he'd known before: his few friends, old schoolmates, ignorant acquaintances of his parents. He took their shapes one by one and at the end of the cycle there was no exhaustion and he was comfortable with the idea of being at least temporarily female.

Again restored, he took Mother's waist in his hands and spun her round once, whooping.

He set her down with the gentle click of her shoes on the floorboards. "This is the solution to all our problems. I can pick up the likeness of some drifter and get a new body, just like you. We're going to be able to live forever."

He paused, then laughed full this time, before whipping round to hug Father. It took several seconds to feel those hands lift to touch his back.


	2. Chapter 2

**Cheap**

**Chapter 2**

The homunculus leaned out the window. Below him the streets were packed with more people than he'd ever seen in one place before, heavy carts creaking as their horses laboured through the human river. The air was hot and filled with loud voices as people tried to distinguish themselves from the mass.

He turned away and went to find Mother. Today was his day away from work, and Mother was always at home. The world, much to her irritation, still discouraged women, even female alchemists, from ambition, though she tried to make the best of her mind-numbing position. Maybe today they'd go to the library. Mother always enjoyed searching there for books of arcane knowledge.

"Mother?"

He thumped down the stairs and found her in the kitchen. Likely going to prepare lunch; it was her turn today. But instead, she stood facing the open dish cupboard as if she'd never seen it before.

He walked closer. Was there something wrong? "Mother?"

She looked over her shoulder at him. "Your father isn't going to come home today."

"What?"

She held up the paper that had been dangling from her left hand. "I found this in the cupboard. He must have know that I'd find it at this time of the day."

He spoke dumbly. "What...why?" Now, when they'd just started on their journey? The homunculus clenched his teeth, straightened his slumped back. "Does the letter say anything about his _reasons_?"

"I will read it to you."

"No! I want to read it myself." He choked down the urge to snatch it from Mother's hands.

She paused, just looking at him, then handed it out.

As he read, his fingers tightened to the paper, and he changed to his "vampire" form without realizing it.

_Dear --, _

_I can't pretend any longer. We have done something horrific, and there is only one way to make it right again. I confess that I couldn't make myself exercise the means, and hope that you will have the courage to do it. But lately I have been feeling less convinced._

_I don't ask for your forgiveness, or understanding, for I can't give you mine. I know that I was the first to propose the forbidden act, but I can't live as you do, thinking that if you just believe hard enough, nature will change to suit you. _

_You're growing worse in that --, and I don't want to be a part of it anymore. As long as the Stone lasts, I will remain alive. But I won't live with what you have become. _

_I once loved you, but I no longer can. I will still make one request: No matter what you feel towards me, tell him the truth of his existence. An lie can never be told often enough to become the truth._

_Because of what you were to me, I leave you with half of the Stone. It's another expression of my weak will, I suppose._

For an instant, the Homunculi stood in that gargoyle tableau, fangs bared and claws clutching the paper. Then his expression drew down. "The truth."

Mother gently took the paper from his stiff hands. "You never read the book, did you?"

"...no." Ice was forming in him.

"And your memories of the time before you woke up in that room are vague, aren't they? Like a nightmare that has faded over time."

"...yes." Get to the point, he wanted to shout at Mother, but couldn't make himself.

"You are not our son reborn."

Unable to speak, he only listened.

"What we called you was true. You are a homunculus. But that actually doesn't mean rebirth: it means replacement. You are what is produced through the forbidden act of human transmutation. A desiccated, twisted being, who through the consumption of incomplete Philosopher's Stones is transformed into a likeness of the person intended to be brought back. They have some of their memories, but are also able to be paralyzed or hurt in the presence of the true person's remains.

"He has the gall to accuse me of being arrogant, when he was the one who wanted our son back the most. This was his desire." Mother lowered her head and gave a tight smile. "When he saw what had come from the process, he wanted to kill you. But I insisted you be kept alive until we knew everything. We kept you in our old basement, tying your jaw shut to muffle your screams. Without legs, you couldn't go anywhere, and fell in and out of consciousness besides. Soon it became necessary to leave our village in order to find more information; you came with us in a trunk.

"I searched and searched, and found books on many of the darker corners of alchemy, and eventually _the_ book, and put together the pieces. We had to move several more times, but finally we found a remote place and made the stones to feed to you. Father insisted on being the one to give the stones, though he cringed back as he reached out to you.

"During your convalescence, we fought over what to do. He was the one who barricaded the door, after reading about the supernatural powers that homunculi can gain. I wanted to pretend that you were our child; there was no reason to make your life miserable.

"But there was also no way to get around the truth once it was mentioned. If not for him, we could have lived together forever."

And now it was all ruined. Destroyed. He should have been able to see it in his father's actions: the stares and averted looks, both with the same meaning, the slowness to return affection. But no, he had to block it out, focus in the new power, the new life. "He didn't think of me as his son, did he? Not once."

"It was one of the points he often brought up. I think that he was afraid of you."

"And you didn't think to _tell_ me?"

"What good would it have done? I couldn't change his mind, and he couldn't change mine. I knew the tension would break, but I'd hoped that we could get the best we could out of the time that remained."

The homunculus glared. "You didn't keep me alive because you loved me. You just wanted to see what would happen."

"You can believe what you want to believe. That has always been your choice."

He sucked in air through his fangs. This was... "So what did he want you do to do? Kill me?"

"He was too much a coward to say anything outright, but that's obviously what he wanted."

He clenched his fists. "So what? Does he think that I'd throw myself off a cliff just because _he_ thinks I'm an abomination? I'll tell him something: if I'm not human, it just means I'm _better _than human. I can think and feel and whatever anyone thinks you need a soul to do! It's _his _fault for throwing everything away!"

Mother remained still as sculpture. The homunculus growled and strode towards the door.

"Where are you going?"

She wasn't angry. She was perfectly calm, even after he'd _deserted_ them, run out of some ridiculous sense of atonement. "I can go anywhere."

"So can your father. Are you going to let him go free?"

His answer was the door slamming.

On the street, the sounds of life had been twisted: it was all grating noise, scraping at his senses. A trio of women passed him by, and he could feel their gaze on him, hear one giggle when they had passed. He could turn around, change his hand into a sword, and cut all their heads off. Them too: the men haggling over fruit, the people calling and shouting and would they ever _shut up_.

What was the difference between himself and them? No one had any right to call him a travesty. Not Father, not whoever had wrote Mother's mouldering old book, not Mother herself. The law would have hated Father if he'd ran away from a son of his flesh, but now they would probably have taken his side instead.

The homunculus stopped walking. He had said that he could go anywhere, but was that really true? The existence of beings like him wasn't terribly well known, but people reacted badly to anything that was _different_.

He could hear the bellows and groans of the harbour. Likely father had taken a ship; his office was even near the docks, where he used his powers to help repair parts of the great hulks which could go all around the world. Everywhere.

Mother had known Father for far longer, and might have some idea of where he might hide. She knew other lives beyond the small village where he'd grown up. And he wanted, he wanted...to hurt.

Not just Father. They would all would want to slaughter him first, soon as they found out what he was. Father was right, in a way: the world wouldn't bend to his wishes. But he'd know in his heart that he was worthy_--superior._

But this was only a matter of scientific curiosity to Mother. Could he go back to that, a rejection as sure as Father's? Yet there was something else going on in her mind. He had to find out what it was, and then decide if he wanted to stay with her. There was noting else tying them together, was there?

And then he couldn't do anything for a while, as the sadness finally came to drown him, driving his body towards the woods where he could get away. But only just to brood.

Mother did come, but not until sunset. He turned to her, then looked quickly away, before getting up and silently following her back to town.

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"Not all homunculi will be as strong-willed as you," she said to him a few months later.

They had been living without speaking of certain matters, though he had itched for it; tonight was a rare face-to-face meeting between them. Between the firelight and her stillness, she might have been made of carved Stones herself.

She continued on. "The vast majority of people care deeply about what others think, and allow themselves to be influenced by that. Likewise, they hate what is unusual. If a homunculus hears enough about how they are false, paired with their natural aversion to human remains, they would start to believe it. Even if they know that they can think and feel, if a majority of humans say these sensations are worthless without a soul, they will believe it."

He shifted in his chair. At the moment, he had decided to fully resemble her son, rather than looking vampiric. "You're up to something, Mother, what is it?"

She turned to look at the fire. "I'm assuming you can guess what the Stone that your father left us was?"

"Yes. What about it?" He scowled.

"It will run out eventually. And some say that the Philosopher's Stone can do other things. It might make a homunculus human."

"_Not. Interested._"

"I know. But some would be, because of the very reasons I just stated. And don't be mistaken: there will be others like you out there. Sometimes selfishness can even override that natural fear of punishment. No matter how strongly a taboo is condemned, even with direct evidence to supplement the preaching, there will be people who try it if the possible reward is great enough, and they will hope that their attempt is the one that is blessed."

"You're not one for charity, are you? You just want the Stone to prolong your life."

"True. But will you tell them that?"

He laughed. "Now why would I do a thing like that?" Her plan would take a lot of lives, and a lot of lies. The second part was not important, and the first was speaking to something deep and dark inside him, which was growing as he allowed it to, from that day's brief flare of resentment. If he thought about it too much he might look away, but fortunately he could to keep such reservations held aside. Humans weren't in his league anyway.

"To create unity among the homunculi that we find or create, we will name them after the seven sins of a dead religion. Seven is a number of power in many cultures, and they would already believe they were sinful, when in fact they only possess the problems that all humans do."

"Uh-huh. And what would you call me?"

"I will call you Envy."

"Envy? Are you insane? What do _I _have to be jealous of?"

She laughed, a sound that made his nerves creep, if just for the show of emotion. "You're lying to yourself. The loss of the life you wanted still stings; it's what drives your rage. You still wish to have the stability, the family that humans do. You want to be somebody's child."

She was talking to _him_ like that, when he could just stand up and disembowel her in an instant! Accusing him of weakness, of still clinging to his father's boot. Envy had froze in the midst of standing up to attack. But it was true, wasn't it? He sat slowly back down.

"Or you could say that most sins spring from Envy. In my story, you will be the first."

"Hmph." But he smirked. "The book will have to be destroyed. I will read it once before we destroy it. And there is something else that I've been considering for myself."

"And that is?"

"I won't look like _him_. Even this"--and Envy changed into his "vampire" form--"even this is just a black-and-white version. Someday I'm going to become something else, adopt a new default. This chapter will be closed."

"As you wish it," she replied with a courtesy he knew was mocking.

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Envy read the book cover to crumbling cover, and smirked at the end, as he had several times throughout. Even with the missing parts, it was clear that the author had created a homunculus by accident, but tortured her intentionally, trying to discover the secrets of his creation after the consumption of stones had restored her shape. The ordeal had climaxed in the removal of her Ouroboros tattoo, after which he'd barely escaped being murdered by the now-mindless creature, who was weak without much stones to sustain her. She had been killed soon afterwards.

Like it was surprising. To think that humans or homunculi had a monopoly on pain was the thought of an imbecile.

Envy developed what he wanted, changing the shape of his default body, turning his hair into a mane of quill-like strands, his garment into something that would shame a streetwalker, and taking an androgynous voice to suit his fluid shape.

He would call Mother by whatever name she currently wore, but never by that title. If he were ever to take his original shape again, it would only be to kill the people that he most despised. Nothing else was worth it.


End file.
